


Answers

by Minuialeth75



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuialeth75/pseuds/Minuialeth75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During an attack, Arthur witnesses something he shouldn't have seen and discovers the true nature of his manservant. He's not happy.<br/>Written with slightly slashy googles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Answers

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to 4x03.  
> Beta: Marindamar on LJ.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own "Merlin"; the BBC and Shine do. I'm not making any money out of this, just enjoying myself. A lot.  
> No copyright infringement is intended.

It was supposed to be an uneventful hunting trip. Arthur hadn't been on one in a long while, so he had been relishing the prospect of some time away from kingdom business.

He had been preoccupied with attempting to fill his father's boots, with trying to act like he had been the king for years and not only for weeks, with struggling to not appear hesitant or weak or stupid in front of the council members, by trying – and succeeding – to pass a new law so that any brave and good sword fighter in the kingdom could now train to become a knight of Camelot, noble or not. He had made big mistakes along the way and fixed – most of – them.

The fact that he was still trying to push away the image of his father drawing his last breath also didn’t make things easier to deal with. Neither did the constant nagging in the back of his mind that perhaps Gaius was right, maybe that old sorcerer had not tried to kill his father but had just been unable to save him, Uther having been too close to the other side.

 

He had not realised it would be so difficult to escape his duties for only _one_ day. After all, _he_ was the king; he was supposed to be able to do as he pleased.  
Apparently not, as it seemed the kingdom would _crumble_ if there wasn't a council assembly for a day.

That's when the weight of his new role fell heavily on his shoulders; because until that moment he hadn't tried to do something he used to do when he was only Crown Prince.  
His uncle had been the only one to think that going hunting for a day deep in the forest – and probably spending the night there – was a great idea, and that it would do him good.

Of course Merlin hadn't relished the idea but that was customary of him. Arthur didn't know why he always insisted on having him tagging along since he always scared the preys away. Arthur had grown sure over the years that he did it on purpose. Sometimes Merlin's heart was too soft for his own good.

There had been a weird incident with his manservant the day before, when Arthur had told him it would only be him and Gwaine with him in the forest. He had insisted, quite uncharacteristically and with almost desperate vehemence, that only one knight to accompany the King wasn't enough. Arthur had reminded him that he was going _hunting_ , not into battle, and that the deers were unlikely to try to kill him, especially as _someone_ was always scaring them away anyway.

Arthur disliked so much the idea of being surrounded by too many noisy knights around him – even if he liked them – that his answer to Merlin had been harsh. Only when Merlin had used the word "Sire" in his next sentence – a word he seldom used, especially now that Arthur was king – had Arthur realised that maybe he was taking this hunting trip a little too much to heart.

 

Now he regretted his decision and was wondering if perhaps Merlin didn't have a hidden Seer talent.

The men had come out seemingly from nowhere, though if Arthur thought about it, the place, surrounded by small hills, was perfect for an ambush. Except Arthur had been enjoying the hunting so much that he hadn't been thinking like a warrior. Now he wished he had. Correct that, he wished he hadn't insisted on having that bloody hunting trip in the first place.

The men – probably bandits – weren't fighting as well as trained knights but they had numbers on their side. Him and Gwaine were badly outnumbered: ten to two. He wasn't including Merlin among the fighters. Even if Merlin had gotten a little bit better at fighting over the years, the wooden stick his manservant was carrying couldn't match swords and axes. He kept shooting glances in Merlin's direction as he warded off blows from his opponents. Gwaine was doing the same, fighting for his life but also for Merlin's.

Two of the bandits were down. One dead, the other he wasn't quite sure of. All that Arthur knew was that he was no longer a threat, for however long it might last.

He saw Gwaine dispatch another brigand. Seven to go. That was when he caught sight of Merlin whacking one of them on the head with his stick. Well, six to go. He allowed himself a moment to be impressed by his servant's prowess.

He was now fighting two brigands at once, just as Gwaine was. He could feel some weariness creeping in and knew the knight was probably starting to feel it too. His dominating thought was Merlin's safety, though. The longer he and Gwaine kept their opponents occupied, the longer they wouldn't be able to attack the weakest of them three.  
Why on earth had he insisted upon Merlin coming?

 

"NOOOOO!!!!!!"

Thinking his manservant in danger, Arthur looked in his direction. It all happened very fast, but Arthur _knew_ what he saw. Merlin's eyes turning _golden_ , his expression fierce, the palm of his hand outstretched toward him. His eyes turning golden. Golden. _Sorcerer_.

Arthur was vaguely aware of his two assailants literally flying backwards through the air. The sound of a third heavy thud behind him indicated that there had been a third adversary he hadn't spotted.

He didn't turn to look. He couldn't. His eyes were glued to the person who was supposed to be his most trusted friend but had been lying to him all along. He felt the bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth, his heart pounding with so much rage his ears were roaring with it. Sorcerer. Traitor.

He watched his servant's orbs regaining their normal blue color and realized they were fixed on him. Arthur instinctively raised his sword, waiting for the eyes to glow gold again. Merlin paled, and the arm still outstretched in a fighting stance fell limply at his side. His eyes seemed to beg him to understand. Probably some kind of ruse to buy time.

Then suddenly there was a warning shout and an axe, seemingly coming from nowhere, violently struck the sorcerer. Like in a blurry dream, Arthur watched Merlin's body twist and fall on the forest's ground.

Gwaine went after the bandit with an enraged cry and killed him with a swift blow of his sword.  
The knight then crouched by Merlin's body. Merlin the sorcerer. Merlin the traitor.

 

A hundred thoughts were whirling in Arthur's head at once and it felt like it was going to explode. All this time, right under his nose…  
Merlin had played the bumbling fool, the clumsy and incompetent servant. He had wormed his way into his life, getting him to trust him with things Arthur trusted no one else with.  
He had confided a lot of important things to Merlin, things he had never told anyone else. Merlin had been at his side in his darkest days. He had even allowed his servant to see him in his weakest moments.  
He had trusted Merlin to write his speeches, had let him handle his overflowing schedule. He had listened to his advice more times than he cared to admit. He had _valued_ his advice.

And all this time, all those _years_ , Merlin had been lying to him, hiding who he really was. A sorcerer, a user of magic. He had even pretended to be his friend and Arthur had believed him, bought Merlin's seemingly guileless behavior, thinking he only wanted the best for him. But the trust, the friendship, had been one sided. It had all been a lie. He felt like howling in rage as he recalled all the moments he had thought he was sharing with Merlin. How blind he had been! Letting evil magic right into the heart of Camelot!

He should have listened to his father's advice: a king must rule alone, make his own decisions. A king can trust no one. He can't afford to.

Why was Merlin _serving_ him in the first place? What was his malicious plan? Waiting for him to become king and then make him a puppet by some dark enchantment?

 

"Sire!"

Arthur finally took in his surroundings and realized that all the bandits were either dead, severely injured or had run away.

The call had come from Gwaine, kneeling by Merlin, a hand on the traitor's head. Whatever Merlin's plans had been, it seemed they had been foiled by the attack.

"He's still alive but badly injured. We have to take him back to Camelot as fast as we can."

Arthur felt bile rise in his throat. Taking the fox right back into the henhouse? Giving him a chance to survive?!  
Of course, Gwaine didn't realise, didn't know.

"He's a sorcerer," Arthur said in a voice that seemed to come from a faraway place. Maybe because the anger he felt tightened his throat to a painful point. "He's just used magic."

Gwaine didn't look surprised. Had he known? Was there another traitor in Camelot?

"He's Merlin. He's your friend. You can't let him die."

"My friend?! He was _never_ my friend. It was all a ruse. He's been lying to me for years! Tell me why I would bring back a _sorcerer_ into the heart of _my_ kingdom."

"It's _Merlin_. He wouldn't hurt a fly. He's just saved your life."

Arthur chose to ignore the slight desperation in Gwaine's voice.

"How long have _you_ known?" Arthur felt his steps taking him closer to the knight, holding his sword tighter.

Gwaine looked up at him, Merlin's head in his lap. "Minutes." There was no trickery in his eyes, but Arthur no longer knew who to trust.

Then Gwaine started to lift the sorcerer, his intent obvious.

"I _order_ you to leave him here!"

The knight stared at him with a stricken face. No one had ever looked at Arthur like this. That kind of look had been for his _father_...  
He tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation in his gut. He was doing this for the good of Camelot. He couldn't take the risk of Gaius saving Merlin and have a sorcerer that close to him.

Gwaine gingerly put Merlin back on the ground. He deliberately unclasped his red cloak and threw it on the ground, his face an odd mix of animosity and disappointment. "Then I'm no longer a Knight of Camelot. I can't possibly obey that order _and_ uphold the knight's code."

Ignoring any reaction that might come from his king, he proceeded to lift Merlin in his arms again, and started toward the horses.

 

Beyond reasoning, acting on pure instinct, Arthur blocked his path, sword in hand. That's when he got his first good look at Merlin's state.  
His limp body looked lifeless in Gwaine's arms and he was horribly pale. Blood – too much of it – was congealing in his hair and face, making the skin look even whiter.

Gwaine had carefully positioned Merlin's head on his shoulder so it wouldn't roll as he walked, to not worsen the injury. If it hadn't been for all the blood, Merlin could have looked like an innocent sleeping child.  
Arthur was suddenly hit by an overwhelming feeling of utter wrongness. Before he could grasp his thoughts' direction, he found himself thinking that a battle wound looked terribly wrong on Merlin, that Merlin shouldn't look so… fragile.  
Merlin wasn't supposed… Wasn't supposed to what? To fight? Why was he thinking that? Merlin was a sorcerer. He could kill him with just a spell.

Then why had he just saved him? Why hadn't he let the bandits kill him while he defended his own life with his magic?  
Why had he jumped in front of the Dorocha to save him?  
Why had he drunk from the chalice that was destined for him, knowing it was _poisoned_?  
He was a sorcerer, wasn't he supposed to want him dead? Was he as stupid as he pretended to be?

Arthur had a brief flash of Merlin's goofy grin. The contrast of that cheerful memory with the now bloody and lifeless-looking man was so violent Arthur unconsciously loosened the hold on his sword handle.

He realised he would never have his questions answered if Merlin died. He would never know why he had come to Camelot where magic was banned, why he had remained his servant, why he had saved his life numerous times, as he was starting to suspect.  
If Merlin died, he would be left to wonder for the rest of his life. And that's the only reason why he was going to ride back to Camelot as fast as he could and let him into Gaius' care.

 

Arthur sheathed his sword. Gwaine hadn't moved so only mere moments must have passed. The knight's stance relaxed. He couldn't have defended himself and Merlin against Arthur if he had decided to attack them.

"I'll get the horse for Merlin," he said to the knight. He found he liked the look Gwaine was shooting him now much better than the previous one.

He almost jogged to the trees where the horses were tethered.

When he came back, Gwaine made for handing him his unconscious servant to mount the horse.

"No. I'll be the one riding with Merlin," Arthur corrected him.

 

A few moments later, Gwaine was helping him securing Merlin at the front of the horse, between his arms, his bloodied head on his shoulder. He wished he had cleaned the wound a bit, so it looked less ghastly. He found himself checking every second if the young man was still breathing.  
He wasn't worried. He wanted answers.

All the handling, as cautious as it had been, must have made Merlin regain consciousness because his eyes opened as far as slits. Apparently it was enough for him to see because his eyes alighted on Arthur's face.

"I'm sorry," was all he managed to say before fainting.

Arthur chose to ignore the feelings those words had triggered to check the pulse at Merlin's neck. Still there. Still alive.

"Sire, we should go." Gwaine, wearing the Pendragon read cloak again, took the lead on his horse.

Camelot wasn't far away. They would make it in time.


End file.
